


Good Old Fashioned Rivalry

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [119]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bets & Wagers, F/M, Rivalry, Smut, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 23:04:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: As directors of rival school choirs Klaus and Caroline had a bet. It's her turn to pay up and she's not as reluctant as she thinks she should be.





	Good Old Fashioned Rivalry

**Good Old Fashioned Rivalry**

**(Prompt:** **rival competitive chorus conductor au + "last year i made a bet with you that my students would beat yours in the rankings this year i didn't think you'd actually REMEMBER fuck you won" SMUT).**

Her phone buzzes on her coffee table and Caroline glares at it resentfully. She's got a pretty good idea about just who's texting her. She'd turned down Kat's offer to go out and drown her post-loss sorrows and Bon's out of town. Few of her other acquaintances would reach out at this time on a Friday evening.

Ugh, couldn't he have at least waited a _day_? Give her a little time to lick her wounds in peace so she could at least _pretend_ to be gracious? She'd been so sure her programme was a winner, had drilled the kids mercilessly for weeks. It _had_ paid off and their performance had been nearly flawless. They'd all been so pleased with themselves, beaming and bouncing as they'd made their way back to their seats. To lose by a measly tenth of a point had been heartbreaking and Caroline was already planning to bring 'Cheer up, you're awesome!' cupcakes on Monday and let them go wild at rehearsal, high on sugar and songs from Disney scores.

They deserved a break though apparently _she_ didn't merit one.

 _Why_ had she made that stupid bet? And why couldn't the drinks she and Klaus had shared afterwards have worked their magic and made him forget it? If only they'd had a few more. Caroline certainly wished she could forget those minutes she'd spent on his lap in the back of the cab they'd shared. Remembering - how he'd smelled, the breathy way he'd rasped her name, the greed of his fingertips - had proven to be a curse over the last few months.

She'd replayed those minutes they'd spent together in her mind _way_ too often. Caroline told herself, often and insistently, that she wasn't disappointed that things had ended prematurely, before things could get all that interesting or irrevocable. Klaus' hands had lingered on her thighs, just brushing her panties instead of slipping underneath, a frustrating tease that had left Caroline panting into his mouth. The driver had interrupted them, screeching to a stop and barking out a demand for payment. Jarred and embarrassed, carefully avoiding the heated look that hadn't left Klaus' eyes at the interruption, she'd scrambled from the cab. Caroline had straightened her skirt and scurried inside with a hasty goodnight tossed over her shoulder before Klaus could say anything.

If she'd given him the chance to talk she probably would have invited him in. And that would have been bad.

Too often Caroline found herself watching his hands at competitions instead of doing her job and paying attention to his choir. If they'd gone further? She'd never be able to keep her composure in his presence and it would be a disaster.

God, he'd be so smug if he knew.

Another text comes through and she groans, letting her head thump back into the couch. She's not surprised, Klaus is nothing if not persistent. That's what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She digs her spoon into her pint of ice cream, unearths a fortifying chunk of peanut butter cup and reaches for her phone.

 **Pure Dimpled Evil [8:47 PM]:** Does tomorrow night work for you? What time shall I pick you up?

 **Pure Dimpled Evil [8:51 PM]:** Don't tell me you're welching, Ms. Forbes. Whatever would the little ones say?

 **Pure Dimpled Evil [8:52 PM]:** Aren't you supposed to set an example? Embody the spirit of sportsmanship or some such nonsense?

Ugh, she was going to need more than ice cream. She totally should have stopped and gotten wine. Maybe even gin.

 **Caroline [8:53 PM]:** I'm not going to be mentioning any bets to my students. You probably shouldn't either. It won't look so good to your fancy helicopter parents that you're getting dates through nefarious means, will it?

 **Pure Dimpled Evil [8:54]:** Nefarious? Hardly. You agreed quite readily. So certain you'd be victorious. I did enjoy the confidence, sweetheart, but you've no one to blame for your predicament but yourself. Besides, I've noted a certain inclination to win at all costs amongst my choir's parents. I dare say they'd approve of my methods.

That last point, Caroline could grudgingly concede, was probably correct. The prep school Klaus taught at charged astronomical tuition fees and she'd glimpsed more sternness and scrutiny than enjoyment or encouragement from the few parents who bothered to attend choral competitions. And okay, fine, she _had_ made the bet willingly. Klaus might have goaded but that was no excuse. He was just an aggravating person in general, delighted in pushing her buttons. She really should just stop letting him.

Even if it was kinda fun.

 **Caroline [8:59 PM]:** Sunday. Brunch.

 **Pure Dimpled Evil [9:00 PM]:** Now, now I specified a proper date. Brunch does not qualify.

 **Caroline [9:00 PM]:** Brunch dates are a thing!

 **Pure Dimpled Evil [9:01 PM]:** I'm sure they're not. Brunch is for old married couples or out of town relatives that you don't particularly like. A date is dinner. Somewhere with low lighting and good drinks.

 **Caroline [9:02 PM]:** Planning on getting me drunk enough to find you charming? Better bring your credit card.

 **Pure Dimpled Evil [9:03 PM]:** Ouch, love. I'd be offended if you weren't lying through your pearly teeth.

Her jaw drops, and she sets her ice cream aside. A quick glance tells her it's becoming a melty mess, her conversation with Klaus having distracted her from eating.

 **Caroline [9:05 PM]:** Excuse you, I am not.

 **Pure Dimpled Evil [9:05 PM]:** You'd never have made the bet if you weren't willing to go out with me, Caroline. You tried your hardest to win because you loathe losing but I'd wager you're not all that disappointed in the outcome, are you?

She's really trying to be but Caroline can grudgingly admit, alone in the privacy of her apartment, that she might have a teeny fleet of butterflies in her stomach at the prospect of going on a date with Klaus. The good kind. They have serious chemistry, he's annoyingly charming, and distractingly hot. He's also far too aware of his positive qualities so she's not going to make it easy on him.

 **Caroline [9:06 PM]:** Nope, sorry. I actually just really wanted to win.

 **Pure Dimpled Evil [9:07 PM]:** Alright, then I suppose I misconstrued things. Best of luck next time. Until we meet again, Caroline.

She stares down at her screen for several long moments, the typed words slow to penetrate.

Wait, _what_?

Was she missing something? Caroline is baffled by his abrupt shift to formality. She expects more, for those three little dots that mean Klaus us tapping out some longer reply to pop up on her screen. But there's nothing and Caroline finds herself making a call.

He picks up on the third ring, sounding guarded, "Hello?"

"'Until we meet again?'" she spits out incredulously. "Could you _be_ any more dramatic?"

"Likely, if I put the effort in. Would you perhaps like to offer some tips?"

Caroline ignores the mild dig, "What does that even _mean_?"

Klaus reply is measured, maddeningly patient, as if they're barely acquaintances. "It means that I imagine we'll not see each other until our paths cross again at the next meet. I believe it's next month though the precise date escapes me."

"What about…"

"I've no need to coerce a woman into dating me, love."

She makes a noise, one that doesn't even come close to being a word at all, pulls her phone away from her ear to glare at it. Was he calling her bluff here?

So annoying.

"Come over," she finds herself blurting out.

He's hesitant and she finds that it hurts a little. "Caroline…"

She hadn't exactly _meant_ to say it but now that it's out there she has no desire to take it back. "Do you remember where my apartment is?"

"Yes, but…"

Caroline cuts him off, "You're right, okay? And I'm probably literally never going to say that again so enjoy it this one time."

His tone warms up considerably and Caroline's reasonably sure he's smiling, "Is that a yes to dinner?"

"Tomorrow. At 7," Caroline agrees.

"Perhaps I'll not need to pick you up, hmm? I'll see you in twenty minutes."

He hangs up before she can say anything else and Caroline sets her phone aside, smiling in a way that would be super embarrassing if there were any witnesses present.

That's when she realizes that she is so not dressed appropriately.

Her leggings and faded Whitmore sweatshirt leave her decently covered but that was kind of the problem. A late evening visit from a guy you'd been having serious dirty thoughts about called for clothes of the _inappropriate_ variety.

Crap. She's got to hurry.

* * *

Klaus buzzes eighteen minutes later – and while generally Caroline is a big believer in punctuality this one time she could have used a couple extra minutes to prepare. Her apartment is only tidy-ish (she'd planned to rectify that tomorrow) with a pile of grading strewn over the coffee table, a small buildup of dishes in the kitchen, and a mountain of laundry that's waited to be folded on the loveseat.

Naturally, she shoves Klaus against the door as soon as he's inside, running her palms up over the thin fabric that covers his torso and tugging off his jacket.

What? It's the perfect distraction.

He seems to have no complaints, burying his hands in her hair as soon as they're free from his sleeves and slanting his mouth over hers. There's nothing tentative in his kiss and Caroline's lips part on a sigh, meeting his eagerness with her own.

He tastes minty, like he'd stopped to brush his teeth before coming over and Caroline smiles against his mouth. Klaus pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers. "What?"

She bites down on her lower lip in an attempt to stifle herself. "Nothing. Hi. Thanks for coming over."

His laugh is soft and his lips brush hers again. "Thanks for inviting me over." He pulls back when she tries to deepen the contact, sucking in a harsh breath when her hands slip under his shirt. He goes very still and she takes the opportunity to explore the tense muscle under her palms thoroughly. He swallows harshly, sounds a little strained, "We don't have to…"

She pauses, stepping back slightly. A quick glance down shows that, according to the bulge in his jeans, Klaus' body is _very_ much on board. Still, that didn't necessarily mean anything. "Do you not want to?"

He moves quickly, flipping their positions, hitching her leg around his hip. She'd changed into a dress, a floaty little summer thing, and his eyes widen slightly as his hand slides up her thigh, curling around her hip. Her bare hip.

She'd figured underwear would just get in the way.

"I definitely want to," he rasps.

"Good," Caroline breathes, tightening her leg and tilting her hips so he grinds against her. "Glad we're on the same page."

Klaus needs no further encouragement, his head dipping so his lips slide over her shoulder, nudging the strap of her dress aside. His hand on her hip encourages her to keep moving and she obliges, resting more of her weight against the door. His stubble scrapes over her skin, following the path of her falling dress, and Caroline fights a shiver. His free hand tugs when the fabric catches on the peak of her nipple and then his mouth is there, hot and wet and greedy.

She works her other arm out herself so her dress pools at her waist, sliding her hand into his hair when he moves to switch to the neglected breast. She doesn't let him though her body's screaming for more, yanking his mouth back to his and pushing away from the door. They kiss frantically, hands roaming over heated skin and Klaus lets her walk him backwards, helps her toss his shirt aside and takes the opportunity to shove her dress off her hips. "Bedroom," Caroline manages, ripping her mouth from his to suck in a lungful of air. "And take off your pants."

Their hands tangle around his belt buckle, clumsy and shaking. She finds herself muffling a laugh in his shoulder even as she gets his zipper down and her hand inside. He shudders when she wraps her fingers around him and the accompanying strangled grunt of her name is intensely satisfying. She pulls back to watch his face, to enjoy his darkening eyes and slack lips as she learns how he likes to be touched.

They stumble into her bed and go down in an ungraceful heap. Klaus manages to pin her hands, presses them into the mattress next to her head. He attempts to look stern though it's less than successful, flushed as he is, his hair ruffled from her hands. "I have been thinking about this for far too long to come on your hands the first time."

She attempts a matching seriousness, "So what you're saying is that handjobs are cool the second time?"

He pushes off from her, standing so he can strip out of the rest of her clothes. "Sorry, but no. I've plans for the second time as well."

She props herself up on her elbows, doesn't even attempt to make it look like she's doing anything but ogling him. It's only fair, she thinks, with the way his eyes are glued to her. "And when exactly do I get my turn?"

Klaus grins, his hands hooking under her knees and pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. "Perhaps another bet's in order? Since the last one worked out so well."

She's not exactly going to argue, not when he's dropping to his knees, pressing his lips to her inner thigh. She's about to question him about the terms of said bet (and mock him mercilessly if it was anything about getting her to scream his name) but Klaus' thumb slips over her folds gently, parting her and pressing deeper until it's slickened with her arousal, easing the way as he strokes her. She'd be embarrassed by how wet she was if she hadn't just had her hand around his cock, _felt_ how much he wanted her. She moans when he finds her clit and begins drawing slow circles that have her thighs twitching.

Clearly Klaus was adept at distraction techniques. She'd have to remember that.


End file.
